Dribble
by ShiaZu
Summary: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff. Variety of pairings, requests are welcome.
1. It's not drool, it's dribble

"_That's not drabble, that's just...dribble."_

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff. Zutara.

Chapter One: It's not drool, it's dribble.

* * *

She is made of water. Not only is she made of water, she _is _water in its every form. Steam, rain, ice, and mighty cascade. When he looks into her blue eyes, he is enveloped in complete watery suffocation, drowning endlessly in depths of cerulean.

In fact, water is so much a part of her that she wears its color everywhere on her person, head to toe, like wearing a waterfall.

One could even go so far as to say it was water that gave birth to her and gives meaning to her existence.

"You drool in your sleep," he says.

"It's not drool! It's...uh...waterbending."

"With your mouth?"

"I like to practice. A lot."

* * *

**A/N: **I do my best writing when I am too tired to think. I think.

This little dribble is dedicated to the drool stains on my pillowcase, which is, incidently, blue.


	2. Elites

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Being an Elite means you're good, no matter how old you get.

_In Beloved Memory of RedNovember_

_who is out there, somewhere._

_

* * *

_

_This_, she decided, _was not working out._

"Come on, Katara! Don't you want to look cuddly for a change, rather than looking like a barbed blowfish?" her fellow soldiers jibed, sorting through dresses in a sewing shop, hoping to spot the right one.

Just because she was dating their prince, it didn't give them the right to drop protocol and flat out _poke fun_ at her.

"There's a reason I keep so many knives up my sleeves, Ensei. Would you like me to remind you of some of those reasons?" she countered poisonously.

He took a step back, shaking his blonde head. "Save it for the emp, Katara. He likes 'em feisty. And sharp," he added suggestively.

Fire Emperor Zuko walked back to camp, finished with his shopping, a collection of fruits and veggies in his arms, and saw Katara preparing to slit the throat his best friend and best Elite.

Sighing, he set down the assortment of nutritious snackies and pulled her by the elbow away from the man's painfully mortal neck.

"Is there a problem, Ensei?"

"Your bitch is in heat, sir."

* * *

**A/N: **One of my favorite lines from Love Thy Enemy, by RedNovember. I hoped she wouldn't mind if I borrowed the name and one line, to do a little tribute. My next favorite line will be following... as inspiration.


	3. From Dribble to Drivel

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

_**Warning:**__ Toph does not approve of this shipping._

From Dribble to Drivel, a minty Sokkla oneshot, because capture fics are so over-cinnamoned. This isn't entirely serious.

* * *

The Water Tribe boy, excuse me, _man_, had always found the princess of the Fire Nation to be rather unforgiving and mechanical in nature. Not maniacal, just mechanical. She worked endlessly and tirelessly at whatever task she hoped to conquer, no matter the obstacles, as if she could not even compute them. She even worked flawlessly, with admirable ferocity, until a part went missing, a screw went loose, or something snapped. Yes, this described her perfectly, he determined. The only thing she seemed to lack was an operator's manual. And a mechanic. Because something had seriously gone wrong in the princess's complicated machinations-somewhere her wires were crossed and fizzled out. But Sokka was just itching for a fixer-upper project. Soon, he'd have that hunk of mecha purring like a kitten.

The first step in Sokka's manly manual to fixing a princess was to determine where the shoddy craftsmanship was located. You just cant trust domestic machinery these days, you know. A man from the Southern Water Tribe would have juuuust enough of a foreign touch to be juuuust what the princess needed. Ex-princess.

"I'm here to see the crazy lightning girl," he told the guard at the high-security prison. Oddly enough, the guard knew just to whom he was referencing and allowed him to enter, saying a quick and silent prayer to Agni that the boy returned from his visit unsinged. Sokka did not hear this plea for mercy, of course, and trotted up the stone steps to where the ex-princess was being held. The prison tower was dank, dusty, and dim. Each step the man took sent slapping sounds reverberating off the weathered stone walls, like dead fish beating against a windowpane. It gave him an unpleasant feeling in his nether regions.

Two more guards stood outside of the ex-princesses cell door, at the top of the tower. Both of these guards were firebenders, stoic and dutiful. They felt somewhat belittled by the water peasant's conversational manner and informal posture. "Hey guys, I'm going in for a visit," he said without a trace of lightheartedness, pausing imperiously for them to open the door. The guards didn't move. "No, seriously," Sokka attempted to add, chest deflating.

One of the firebenders coughed, but opened the door for him to go in. As soon as Sokka stepped into Azula's cell, the guards shut the door behind him and locked it with a secure chink of metal. The boy really hoped they'd let him back out if Azula went all Flopsie on him. Not that he expected her to be significantly more slobbery now that her patented Fire Nation choo choo had driven off its patented track, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

In the cell, there was just enough light from the windowed door to allow Sokka to see. What he did see was a little surprising. The ex-princess Azula did not have a fluffy red couch on which to sit, nor did she even have a hairbrush. Instead, she was positively _chained_ to the bleak stone walls of her cell, hundreds of metal links fastening her arms and legs into nearly permanent positions. Her hair was choppy and unkempt, and she didn't smell particularly clean to his sensitive nose. Noticing his shuffling, awkward presence, Azula looked up from the floor and stared him down from across the room.

"Did you bring my lunch?" she asked, with a voice that shook like Autumn leaves, with a touch of lunacy.

"Uhm...no, that's not why I'm here," Sokka replied nervously.

The dishonored princess rolled her eyes in disinterest and resumed her staring contest with speckles of dirt on the floor.

Recognizing it as a now-or-never moment to complete step one in his manly manual, Sokka sat down on the floor, near the princess, but not _too_ near, and opened up a notebook. When Azula looked up again, out of anger or curiosity, she noticed the boy was suddenly wearing a full-grown beard and holding a stick of graphite expectantly over some parchment. The urge to laugh made her want to choke on fireballs.

"Who the heck are you supposed to be?"

"I'm...I'm Sokka. You know, friend of the Avatar? Dating a kyoshi warrior? And I'm the one who'll be asking questions here," he answered, adding the part about Suki in an attempt for a snippet of vengeance. How could he forget when the crazed Fire Nation woman had kidnapped his love? But he'd managed to rescue her "favorite prisoner", and now they went on dates every Tuesday. Sometimes even on Saturdays, when Suki was in a good mood.

"Oh. That's dull."

"Wh-why?" he almost whined, hoping to get something out of the woman at least.

"Because we both know that I don't have to answer your stupid questions, peasant.

...unless, you want to make it into a fun little game," the indisputably evil princess smiled at him with undeniable seductiveness, her pearly white smile showing a row of fangs. The helpless boy, sweating in his socks, gulped.

The guards outside of Azula's cell chose not to hear her purring like a kitten.

Indeterminable minutes later, Sokka left Azula's cell with an agitated dark spot on his neck that the guards chose not to comment on and a rising flush in his bronze cheeks. Mission accomplished: Azula had been thoroughly examined, top to bottom, in and out. Even in places Sokka hardly knew existed.

Nope.

_No shoddy craftsmanship there_.


	4. Manpunch

Dribble:

A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Please forgive me for my Last Airbender movie bashing. I saw the premier, and wanted to cry. This scene occurs during the Siege of the North, in the Spirit Oasis. **SPOILERS** for the movie.

POV: Ocean Spirit

_Manpunch_

I exist in this world to teach mankind the importance of respect and humility. The only person who seems to know this is the old man with dreadlocks.

The Avatar thinks I'm a pretty fish.

Who is that man with the round, teddy-bear face? I would suggest he is here for some fiendish purpose, were it not completely impossible for those cheeks to look imposing and menacing. But... uh-oh. He has a bag in his hand. I have a bad feeling about this.

I was right about these humans, so easily swayed by evil. The bag enters the water, and for a moment I think it is going to swallow me, until it swallows the Moon Spirit instead. I don't start to swim around wildly, or anything. I wait to see what happens.

The old man with the dreads argues with the teddy-bear man. Then the man pulls out a knife. I am afraid that he thinks the Moon Spirit is a pretty fish as well, and plans to eat her. Is he going to roast her alive with his firebending?

The Fire Nation man who does not look particularly evil stares at the bag intently. We all wait, anxiously.

Without warning, he raises his fist...and...

_Shank._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: SPOILERS/RANT. **So, apparently firebenders are now only able to firebend fire that already exists, like the other elements. Which takes it from being the strongest, only production element, and makes it the weakest, least abundant element. Which doesn't make sense. Except Iroh, who is the Dragon of the West, no one else can produce fire. So... Zhao stabs the Moon Spirit to death instead of firebending. In fact, we only see him firebend once, against Zuko, which Iroh deflects because he is magically there in the Zuko vs. Zhao showdown on the ice bridge.

This little rant is attributed to some fanart I found back before the movie was released, when it was speculated the Zhao was going to punch the Moon Spirit to death. Pretty close.


	5. Wanted Posters

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Wanted Posters

"_I need to find you, I gotta find you. You're the missing piece I need, the song inside of me." - Joe Jonas_

_

* * *

_

When he thought of the girl, he was reminded of his mother. Her gentle laugh, her soft touch, and the way he felt secure in her arms.

He tried to form her picture in his mind, attempted to recall the memories from all those years ago. Her pale complexion, the skin of royalty; her long, glistening black hair; and her eyes like golden sunflower petals. She was tall, elegant, and beautiful. The picture he saw was every bit the woman he admired and the mother that he loved.

It had been so many years.

_I need to find you._

She was gone, as in a nightmare, wrenched away by an evil he could not name as child. Even then, an evil of his own fault and failure, and a destiny he could not prevent. It stung like a fresh wound though it was a century old, torn by an erupting volcano of war and hatred.

He held up her picture to a man on the street. The man was old, squinting to see the picture and the writing painted on the parchment. His weary old eyes scanned the radiant blue eyes gleaming at him from pools of ink, brown skin and brown hair beautifully foreign and exotic dancing delicately over pale paper. The ocean seemed reflected in her mesmerizing irises, the stars of the universe in her pupils. But her face looked sad and lost to the old man's world-weary gaze.

"I'm looking for this girl. Have you seen her?"

The elderly commoner thought a moment...and then nodded.

The prince's eyes glowed like the lamps of a lighthouse, like beacons of hope in a storm.

* * *

**A/N: **I liked the idea of Zuko thinking of his mother and how important she is, and then thinking of Katara and deciding that she is more important. Katara is the face of loving of future, Ursa is the face of loving of the past.

I don't like the Jonas brothers or Demi Lovato. I like the lyrics of that song, and the lovely Zutara video using it that can be found on YouTube.


	6. Cheese

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, etc.

Yaay, Zutara!

* * *

**Cheese**

Katara stared at the scale with disgust, the little metal weights giving her news she didn't want to see. "I'm getting fat."

A large blob on the bed, hidden securely beneath a mound of blankets, groaned audibly. The coverlets opened a smidgen and two golden eyes stared out at her from inside the warm cavern. "That's nonsense," the eyes told her.

The look of disgust turned to one of resignation. Katara walked over to the bed and sat down next to the mass at its center. "And you're getting old," she commented tartly.

This time, the blob sat up, quilts and sheets and pillows falling aside like a linen-a-lanche. "That's just plain ridiculous," the newly-uncovered man replied sourly. The lines creasing the corners of his eyes, the crags forming on his face, spoke very loudly in Katara's defense.

"Besides," the Fire Lord said, flopping back down on his back, "your weight makes you look more matronly." Katara thought of their only child: a daughter whose independence was so great that even in her earliest childhood, she'd preferred to wash her cuts and scrapes herself, rather than let her mother heal them. Now in adulthood, the woman was head of international relations, a diplomat to the Earth Kingdom, and a very important figure to the king.

"I feel like shriveled-up arctic seal jerky," the waterbender said mournfully, staring at hands that had once been smooth and exotic but were now calloused and leathery.

Zuko sighed, taking one of her hands and placing it between his own. "I prefer to think of you as a fine hippo-cow cheese."

"A cheese."

"Yes. It tastes better when it's had a chance to age properly." Gently, Zuko pulled her onto his chest and kissed her the way one would most certainly not kiss cheese.

"_Mmmm-_"

* * *

**A/N: **Somehow inspired by _Interesting Times_ by Terry Pratchett. I haven't quite figured out why, though.


	7. Ooh La La

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I am saddened by this.

Hopefully, in five years from now, the following drabble will make absolutely no sense. May we be so lucky.

* * *

**Ga Ga Ooh La La**

Katara just couldn't contain the sweetness of it all. Zuko-stoic, awkward, bumbling Zuko-had finally written her some poetry. "The nomads must have inspired him," Katara bubbled, thinking about what a _wonderful_ idea it had been to have a reunion of everyone they'd met on their travels with the Avatar.

The deep red envelope even smelled like his cologne. The waterbender could feel herself going weak at the knees. Guards standing outside her door looked uncomfortably at their boots, trying not to imagine what the nomads could have inspired their prince to do.

Positively enraptured by the romanticism of it all, Katara ripped open the letter without remembering to close her door. Her big blue eyes greedily scanned the characters written on the parchment. She read them once, twice, thrice. Katara was utterly flummoxed.

"What's a disco stick?"

One of the guards outside her roomed was overcome by a terrible coughing fit.


	8. Very Bad Romance

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

To continue from chapter seven...

* * *

**Very Bad Romance**

The Fire Lord was cranky and well aware that some meddler had placed an obscene message for Katara, supposedly from Zuko himself. Zuko could already smell the traitor roasting over a pit of crackling flames.

But first, paperwork.

"Hey, Zuko," Katara wandered into his study, a basket in one hand and a leather riding crop in the other. She raised the crop as if to indicate her purpose and said, "Let's go have some fun. Being in the palace is making me sick. I want to take a ride on your..."

Suddenly, all the blood in Zuko's body rushed to his head and he fainted, slumping to the floor like a discarded pillow. It appeared that he had a nosebleed.

"...ostrich-horse," she finished. Katara rushed over to the Fire Lord's side. It had never occurred to her that he was such a devoted animal rights supporter.

Katara walked back out to get some paper towels and a bag of ice. As she did so, she handed the riding crop and the basket to the guard outside of Zuko's study. "I guess we wont be needing these," she sighed.

The guard barely suppressed a cough.

* * *

**A/N: **I am so sorry for this garbage.


	9. Let's Get Ready To Scrabble!

Dribble: a collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

A TophxDuke drabble thinger for skaterchick36.

* * *

**Let's Get Ready to Scrabble!**

"Hey Toph, want to play Scrabble?" said The Duke, grinning as he sat down next to her. Days of losing to her in games and scams had hurt his pride when he wanted to show off. Finally, he'd thought of a way to best her. She might be the greatest earthbender in the world, but The Duke was a damn good speller.

Toph leaned back against a rock, scratching her stomach. "What's Scrabble?"

The Duke set the playing board on the ground where she could reach it and pulled out a bag of tiles. "It's easy," he said casually, dumping the contents of the bag. "You just use these stone tiles to spell out words on the playing board. The more letters you use, the more points you get."

"Uh-huh," Toph grunted, sitting up. "Only, I can't read. Or spell. Bliiiiind."

"Oh, okay," The Duke replied, making his tone of voice sad. "I just thought you were good at everything, even kid's games." He sighed loudly.

"I AM good at everything!" Toph shouted. "Give me some tiles." Her face darkened into a scowl as she accepted the small squares of stone. Toph could feel characters imprinted on them, but had no idea what they meant.

"I'll go first!" said The Duke brightly. Examining his tiles, The Duke realized he had exactly what he needed. He set the tiles out on the board and counted his points in the dirt. "Seven points!" he exclaimed.

Toph felt for the board. "What'd you spell?"

"Love," he said quietly.

"Oh." She blushed slightly. Using earthbending, Toph slid some of her tiles onto the board, making sure at least one connected to a letter The Duke had placed. "What's mine spell?"

"Lrtisx."

"Thirteen points. That means I win!"

Sighing, wondering if he'd ever impress the girl of his dreams, The Duke trudged back to where Pipsqueak and Teo were playing a competitive, manly game of Yahtzee.


	10. Am I Too Lost?

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. That's why it's called _fan_fiction.

Inspired by the song _Tourniquet_ by Evanescence.  
Warning: Slightly macabre, sad, and graphic.  
Something serious for your palate.

**Am I Too Lost to be Saved?**

Her eyes locked on the the large iron door. She would have to move it herself. Behind her lay life as it had once been, as it always should have been, but now never could be. In the room behind her - oh how she wished to turn back - laid the bodies of her nemesis: Princess Azula of the the Fire Nation, but also her brother: Sokka of the Water Tribe. Both were dead. The battle had been long. In the end, Azula's friends fled, but Sokka had received a lightning bolt to the heart. He'd died instantly. Azula's body now, much like the Titanic, remained lifelessly skewered at the end of a large spire of ice. The working of a Waterbender.

Katara stared grimly at what lay ahead. _He_ had been there too. Helping his sister to try and stop the Avatar. But they'd failed, and Aang was on his way to face the Fire Lord alone, but at full strength. Katara had made sure _he _couldn't follow. An awful, bitter smile crept onto her lips. At least Sokka had managed to give him a nice belly wound to live with. She's seen him stagger off, away from the fight, after the Avatar. Katara wasn't worried. _He_ would never be able to get to Aang now.

Toph was holding down the fort at the front of the palace, keeping reinforcements from entering through the entrances. The blind girl had really become quite an extraordinary bender, Katara noted with appreciation. If any one could handle a bunch of desperate firebenders, it was Toph. But that left her to open this gigantic metal door all on her own. How had _he_ gotten through? It seemed impassable. But no. There had to be something. Then, Katara spotted it. A weak spot in the door's hinges. With all her might, the young waterbender struck the door with a barrage of ice missiles.

**I tried to kill the pain  
****But only brought more  
So much more**

Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation, heard the giant door slowly creak open. _She_ was coming, he knew it. What would she do to him? Kill him? Zuko knew he deserved her wrath. He'd only tried to help, so long ago, and now it had come to this. It was his family, or _her._ Her brother was dead because of him, his sister was dead because of him. _She_ might die because of him. Perhaps he ought to die, just so that he didn't have to live with that on his chest. The Prince knew he could hardly stand more weight bearing down on him. If the Fire Nation _somehow _survived, the Avatar and his friends could never govern it. His country was in it's darkest hour. And more innocent lives would be on his conscience.

Pain ripped through his body. The wound the Water Tribe warrior had inflicted before his death was taking it's toll on him. Blood seeped through his clothes, and onto his hands as Zuko tried to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. _If I don't stop it, I will die. _But he knew he was going to die anyway. No one would help him now that he'd tried to stop the Avatar from saving the rest of the world. He couldn't blame them, but he wished... Zuko wished someone would give him a second chance.

_Not likely, _the voice inside his head taunted. _Just look what you've done! You really are a disgrace._ It mocked him. The sweat dripped down his face. His eyes fixed on the pool of blood on the floor. Zuko screamed in rage, terror, and grief. In the end, he couldn't be everything his father wanted him to be.

**I'm dying  
And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal**

Katara saw _him_ standing at the top of the stairs. She heard _him_ scream, the agony of his mortality and his rage coursing through the air. She saw him double over, blood spilling from his wound onto the floor, and collapse. His body tumbled down the stairs and landed in a crumpled heap at the base of the incline. She saw the sweat and blood that soaked most of him, his hair matted thickly with his own life source. Katara saw it trickling off of his fingertips, but restrained from moving.

_He's losing a lot of blood. If he doesn't get help soon, he will die. _The alarms went off inside her head, but Katara refused to act. No. She would let the Fire Prince die. Everything was _his_ fault! She walked forward, passing him. Her footsteps sounded at her feet hit the marble staircase. She heard Zuko mumble something, and stopped. She turned and looked at him. What was he saying? Katara leaned to hear. Was Zuko... crying?

It couldn't be.


	11. No Wonder

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

**WARNING: **This chapter implies that size matters.

* * *

**No Wonder They're Winning the War**

At first, the Avatar had been just as excited for their men-only man trip, but the natural rivalry between Zuko and Sokka was destroying all the fun. The three boys carried fishing poles in their hands as they roamed the mountainside looking for a likely stream or lake to catch some dinner. Aang could hear the Water Tribe warrior and the prince arguing behind him and sighed.

"I'm royalty. We're naturally well endowed," Zuko was saying snidely to his companion.

"And I'm telling you, the men of the Water Tribe are naturally packing to make up for the cold," Sokka replied angrily.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

This was going too far. The young Aang wheeled around just in time to see Sokka pull his pants down, revealing a rather large package indeed. The Avatar turned green.

"Sokka, you shouldn't be doing that. What if someone sees?"

"Oh come on, who's going to see us out here?" Sokka snapped back, turning to scowl at Zuko. "Well, what've you got?"

Smugly, Zuko pulled down his trousers.

The warrior's mouth fell open. Aang felt his face turning from green to bright red. Suddenly, many things about the Fire Nation were no longer a mystery.

"I told you so."


	12. The Rumors Are True

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

**WARNING**: This chapter implies that Katara thinks size matters.

A little follow-up of chapter eleven. I forgot to mention it occurs circa the Boiling Rock, when the gang is residing in the Western Air Temple. Dedicated to my reviewers, who read everything I post, no matter how craptastic. I love you guys!

* * *

**The Rumors Are True**

When the three of them rejoined the group with only a few fish in hand, Katara was livid. "You were gone for hours and all you have are a few small fish! What on earth took you so long?" she shouted, stamping her foot. Aang looked particularly uncomfortable as she turned on him. "Well?"

The young monk rubbed the back of his neck. A flush was rising in his cheeks as he tried to avoid recounting the incident in the forest. As he stammered, Zuko and Sokka marched the fish over to the campfire and well out of earshot.

But Katara held Aang in her icy blue glare.

"Well...uh..." he stalled, trying to think of a lie. "Sokka got tired...He, uh, fell asleep."

"He's lying!" Toph shouted from across the courtyard. Katara's eyes narrowed.

"The truth," the suddenly menacing waterbender demanded.

"As it turns out," Aang mumbled, "Zuko's more of man than any of us." He shifted, turning the area of suspicion away from Katara's immediate view.

While she seemed horrified to Aang, Katara wasn't really all the surprised. She stroked her chin, making a scholarly face that indicated she was deep in thought.

"So the rumors are true..."

But, naturally, she wanted to see for herself. Katara was a see-it-to-believe-it kind of girl when it came to proving rumors.

* * *

After a meager dinner of fish fillets and stewed cabbage, the gang rested around the campfire for stories, jokes, and making plans about the next course of action. Katara too was making plans about what to do next. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Hey, Zuko, can you come with me for a moment?"

The prince stood and excused himself from the fire circle and followed her away from the light, off into a dark corner of the temple. He stood facing her, staring into shadowed eyes that seemed strangely determined to him. "What is it?" he inquired.

"Aang tells me you beat Sokka in a competition today. Well, I don't believe him."

Zuko sighed in exasperation. What is it with these Water Tribe peasants? Can't they tell when they've been out-matched and just _accept_ it? "Fine," he said tersely. "I'll prove it to you." Zuko reached for the tie sash around his waist

and saw the master waterbender grinning with glee.


	13. Ashes and Embers

Dribble: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and other pointless fluff.

Post-finale exploration of Azula's character, one or two years after the fall of Ozai. Through the eyes of a child prematurely adult. Coming to terms with the past, anger, fear, healing, love, and the future.

* * *

**Ashes and Embers**

_All of this hate and all of this pain, I'll burn it all down. Everything burns._

_-Anastacia_

_

* * *

_

The Fire Lord hadn't been to visit her in a year. It had been twelve months since she had seen the glint in his golden eyes or heard the rasp of his words. 52 weeks ago she had felt the heat of his fire nearly reach her. 365 days later, the air around her still burned, scarring her with every breath. 8765 hours from that moment, the feeling of betrayal remained. The princess counted the minutes.

It wasn't an inescapable prison; it was an inescapable mind.

Azula stared down at her fingers. Scarred, scabbed, flushed with rash. A permanent crust of dirt formed lines under her fingernails. Untrusting eyes were wide and red at the rims, like bright circus rings. _How old am I? _She looked up, unblinking, at a lamp that flickered greasily, attached firmly to the wall of her cell. The woman - _the girl?_ - counted the beats of her heart and the dances of the flame.

Many times she'd thought about it. A mother, a father, a brother, an uncle, a friend. She saw them all disappear in blue fire, held between porcelain palms. She saw them in flashes of lightning - beside her, then gone. In dancing shadows Azula desperately searched for embraces she never shared.

_What is wrong with that child?_

Rubbing her hands over her arms and shoulders, the princess felt how diminished she had become. _When was I a child?_ The memories eluded her. The kisses hid in cobwebbed corners. The caresses hid in damp, rotting rafters. Azula pictured her mother's face on the cell wall. She dreamed of a thing that did not exist, like a castle in a cloud or a life in a fire. She dreamed of a time when she was not jealous of her brother, of a time when she did live on the expectations of her father. Love and expectation, she had realized, were two different creatures entirely.

The day she had almost become Fire Lord burned white-hot inside her, a violent, toxic miasma in the pit of her stomach. Azula thought of the tears and the screams. She hoped her brother heard them in his sleep. Fiery flashes of anger piqued through her and she fought the urge to destroy everything in her cell: a bucket, a mattress, a bowl, a cockroach.

..._Somewhere I will never have to see their faces again!_

And the Fire Nation princess never saw them again, not even behind closed eyelids or in fairy tale worlds.

_Fear is the only reliable way._

She saw his face in her nightmares. She felt daggers of fire pierce through her heart and whips of lightning crackle through her veins. In her feverish sleep, she ran. But she couldn't get away from him: her legs would fail, her mother would turn the other way, her brother would smile, her uncle would sagely say, "This is what you deserve."

Azula believed them as readily as she believed in her father's love. In her dreams, the man who praised her and the man who killed her had them same eyes, the same wicked smile. In wakefulness, she knew he was alive. Close. Choking off her air. The firebending prodigy was afraid of being alive.

* * *

_Three months later..._

Before he even spoke, she could feel it was him. Metallic, cool, calculating. He had a new smell.

"Hello sister." Azula couldn't remember how to speak. Her brother, _brother_, kneeled outside the cold iron bars of her cell. In his own mind, he flashed back to when it had been his uncle on the other side and smiled at the way the old man had saved him. Azula did not remember how to smile.

"Happy Birthday," another voice said, happy-sad. It was firm but not unkind. Her mother, _mother,_ looked at her with serious eyes.

In an instant, Azula had pressed herself against the far wall of her cell, hoping uselessly that she could simply meld into it and disappear. Her hands shook and her heart thundered like a quake. The girl's ribs had turned to steel, crushing the air from her lungs and pinching her stomach into a knot. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

It was far too late and far too soon.

A monster cowered like a wounded animal in the two eyes of the woman outside the cell. Azula saw herself reflected in her mother's irises, saw herself as a creature with horns and spikes and blood dripping from her fingers. Was this all she could be?

_I love you, Azula. I do._

Some new sensation grasped at her windpipe. The young princess wiped away a torrent of tears, erupting as her life crashed down around her. The day she had been put in the prison was the day her life had collapsed, had failed her. Today was the day she understood how the most horrible things that had happened to her were things that she could not change. The scars on the inside were permanent. She would never be ten years-old again. She would never be carefree.

But she could be... something else. Something new. There was no life in the past. But ahead...She only needed the chance.

"Congratulations, my daughter. You're sixteen years of age, today." A key slid into a lock, a cell door rattled open. A child was mere inches from her caregiver, her support. A sibling and a parent took hold of her arms and made her to stand. Together, they helped her to walk on new legs.

As the child stepped out into the daylight, she was momentarily blinded by its unfamiliarity. She stared down at red rooftops, golden walkways, throngs of people. It was like a fresh dream or a raw memory.

Azula's mother handed her the topknot ring she'd worn only a few years ago. The princess felt the cold metal in her hand. It felt like mistakes; it felt like the past. She knelt and buried it in the dirt at the base of the prison.

"Welcome to the future," Ursa whispered in her daughter's ear.

She might have missed her opportunity to grow up like a normal child, but she would not miss her opportunity to live like a normal woman.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry to throw something so long and so emotional at you this soon after chapter ten, which was also a downer. This has been on my mind awhile. In the show, Azula is so mature and confident that I feel we often lose sight of the fact that she is only fifteen. She always seemed at least nineteen to me. But when I remembered how young she really is, the season three finale had a much more significant impact on me. To have everything one moment and then lose everything the next, at fifteen. It leaves a mark on your heart.

Parts of this account are bits and pieces from my feelings and dreams at fifteen. I am glad that I will never be fifteen again.

Word count: 1,234  
(Isn't that cool?)


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